Disclaimer: I own nothing except my characters. Other canon characters are owned by their respective companies.
Exclaimer: To people who don't like the story, just don't read it.
The air was still and had a slight chill. The moon was up at the sky, against the starry backdrop. The trees did not sway for there was no wind. It was silent, like everything had died. Slowly, the stillness was disturbed as a being came to. His body ached as he grimaced in pain, trying to stand on all fours. He couldn't help but look in shock as he saw the smoking crater he was in. The land was cracked as the earth contained gashes, signifying the destruction that had happen. With each step bringing him with pain, he climbed out. Rocks shifted, beads of sweat dripping, he slowly came out, exposing his physical features to the world. The once lustrous and shining scales were now covered with streaks of red, no doubt blood. Open gashes and lacerations littered his body, with bruises on his underbelly. He looked around warily, as if searching and scanning for something which resulted to nothing.
Pushing himself forward, he began to walk, walk away from ground zero. He was actually surprised at the amount of destruction that had been conjured up. Some trees had missing branches; some had been uprooted and laid flat and dead on the floor. Others were left with nothing but an upturned soil, the tree nowhere in sight, no doubt a few miles away from their location.
But of course, due to the extent of his injuries, he didn't have a lot to go with. In just a few minutes, his vision began to blur at the edges. His body began to falter; his tail beginning to sag. Not a few seconds later, his body severed the connection of his brain to his body. His body toppled to the ground, his eyes closed and stayed still. He was out cold; passed out; bleeding out, his injuries that was beginning to spell death in blood red letters.
Then, a rustle became audible; just moments after he had passed out.
The leaves parted from a nearby bush as a paw moved them away. Three figures came out. One, a cobalt blue dragon, gasped as he saw the lifeless body. The other, a red dragon, much smaller than the former, since he was a child, looked around warily. The third and last, was a purple dragon, as big as the first one, stood guard beside the blue as he checked over him.
"How is he?" asked the purple one, his voice deeper, nearly going to baritone.
"Not good Spyro; he's lost too much blood. We need to get him to the Temple as soon as possible." he answered whilst checking over the blood soaked dragon.
"Okay then," Spyro turned to the red dragon. "Felix, you help me give some cover while Demex carries him back to the Temple. We'll cover your father in case a Predator decides to appear on this of all nights."
Felix nodded. "You got it uncle."
The son and uncle then went to formation, Felix in front, Spyro at the back, Demex in the middle with the dragon. They needed to get him to safety. Slowly, the trio marched, heading out of the forest.
0 0 0 0 0
He walked with a limp as his body was giving. All around him were nothing but darkness, for surely there was no light. The trees swayed all around him as he kept walking, walking to no particular direction. He didn't know where he was headed, but he didn't care. He just kept walking; he was lost and confused. He didn't know what happened. But right now, it didn't matter. He was wounded and that's what mattered. He needed to get his wounds to stop bleeding or else he was going to die from the massive loss of blood.
But where can he possible heal himself?
He didn't know where the nearest possible town was. He was in an area where he wasn't really familiarized. To top it off, he was dazed from what had happened. He couldn't even remember what happened. He was too dazed.
It was all going downhill.
Then, his vision blurred as he ran, making his field of vision vanish completely. He tripped, making him tumble and lay on a heap on the ground. He lay there, bleeding out, death slowly creeping up to him. He was dying, much to his horror. Much to his displeasure, he looked up and was surprised to find two orbs of light, torches no doubt, and a large sturdy gate. He was dying
at the entrance of a village. He was so close. Yet not close enough. He couldn't yell for help. He didn't have enough energy left. Then his vision began to fade. The last image being imprinted on his mind was the village wooden gates before he passed out because of loss of blood. Help that was there that never came.
And he couldn't do a thing about it
But it seems
fate had a different idea.
No sooner than he fell towards the ground, activity rose inside the village. Someone had spotted him. Grunts and yells were heard as the gate was dragged open, its wooden hinges creaking as the wood created friction. Dragons, wearing primitive armor local to the area, ran to his aid.
"Quick! Get him to the healers!" yelled an authority figure.
Following obediently, two dragons quickly hefted the passed out dragon into the village. The figure watched solemnly as the guards took the wounded dragon away. A dragon walked towards him, looking wary and tired, but still alert.
"Was it me or was he a black dragon? A dark dragon perhaps?" he asked.
dark dragons are more volatile and vicious. They aren't easy to be wounded. He must be naturally a dark scaled dragon. I wonder who he is." he replied. The dragon nodded.
"That is the entire question in all our minds." The dragon beside him smiled.
"Do not worry; we can ask him when he wakes up." He smiled back.
"That we shall. We definitely shall."
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